


Recall

by fingalsanteater



Series: More Than Friends [3]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Infidelity, Jake POV, M/M, POV First Person, Past Underage Sex, Sexuality Crisis, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 01:31:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6174913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingalsanteater/pseuds/fingalsanteater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake attempts to mend fences with Marco and deal with his own changing feelings toward his friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recall

**Author's Note:**

> Set right after book 31, "The Conspiracy." References the events of book 30, "The Reunion."
> 
> Please heed the warnings. This fic features underage characters in sexual situations. If this bothers you, do not continue reading. Any negative comments regarding the underage content will be deleted.

I was afraid to leave my parents alone for a while after the incident with my dad and Tom. I tried to be home when anyone picked Tom up, ready to protect my dad or mom if I had to. But, things pretty much went back to normal since Tom's Yeerk wasn't threatened with possible starvation. I knew the danger to my family would never pass until we'd defeated the Yeerks, but my life was as normal as it got for someone fighting an alien invasion.  
  
It was a gloomy Saturday morning and Tom was off with his Yeerk friends at some recruiting function. I hated knowing he was out there enlisting people who I might have to hurt later. I didn't like hurting people, but in war you have no choice. It's kill or be killed.  
  
Marco understands that better than any of us, I think. When I was struggling with what to do, failing as a leader, he planned for the possibility that he'd have to kill my brother to protect us.  
  
He killed his own Yeerk controlled mother.  
  
We were able to save my father, and maybe, someday, I'd be able to save my brother. We weren't able to save Marco's mom. I don't like to imagine what I would have been like if Tom had to die and I were the one to kill him. Probably as bad off as Marco had been.  
  
That night, after Marco had done what needed to be done, had been... strange. I'd done some things I don't like to think about, some things I'm not particularly proud of. Marco and I don't talk about how he kissed me that night.  
  
At the time it seemed unreal. Things you do in the dark always seem less real, like without daylight everything becomes a dream - the blanket of darkness blurring truth. I don't know if Marco thought it was a dream, or if he was just ignoring what happened.  
  
I never wanted Cassie to know. I felt guilty for betraying her trust, but, at the same time, I didn't. That made me feel like the biggest jerk too. But, Marco, my best friend, needed me that night. At the time, it'd felt good to be what he needed, even if it was wrong.  
  
I didn't know if I thought kissing Marco was wrong. Like, if we were just two normal kids not fighting a war together, would I think it was wrong to kiss him? I'd never thought about kissing guys before and I'd definitely never thought about kissing Marco. I'd only ever thought about kissing Cassie.  
  
Kissing Marco that night was wrong, though. He wasn't himself and I shouldn't have kissed him back.  
  
Cassie would be angry if she ever found out. Not just because I'd... done what I'd done with Marco, but because I did it when he was so lost. He needed me to take care of him and instead I took advantage of him. The thought made my insides squirm, like I was full of maggots. I rolled over to stare at my plain, white wall, wishing I could make my mind as blank as it.  
  
Someone knocked on my door. My dad poked his head in.  
  
"Hey, your mom and I are heading out to lunch and then maybe we'll catch a movie. Care to join?"  
  
I glanced out my window to the overcast, gray sky. A fine drizzly mist left the grass and streets just wet enough to be annoying. I hated rainy days.  
  
"No," I said, reluctantly. "I have too much homework." It wasn't a lie, but I doubted I was getting any homework done today. It was one of those days where you just curled up on the couch and watched TV instead.  
  
My dad chuckled, like he didn't believe me. "Well, don't get in too much trouble while we're gone."  
  
I was still afraid for my parents, but I couldn't watch them all the time. I couldn't watch them when I was at school, or when I was sleeping. I hated feeling powerless. Everyone I loved was in constant danger and I couldn't do anything about it. And, when I tried to do something about it, I messed up.  
  
I'd needed someone to take care of me and my friends had been there. Marco had planned everything, taken care of the details for me because I couldn't handle it. And, I'd hated him for it. I'd hated him and he didn't deserve it.  
  
I wasn't really good at figuring out people's emotions. Not that I didn't care, because I did, but, unless someone wears their heart on their sleeve, I can't really tell how they are feeling. Marco's not really a heart-on-his-sleeve kind of guy. Oh, he'll tell you he's afraid or if he thinks it'll make us laugh or diffuse tension, but the real stuff, his true feelings, he keeps locked up tight.  
  
And, sometimes feelings don't matter, not in combat. I'd forgotten that; I'd let my fear control me. I was the one who was wrong, but I'd hated Marco instead.  
  
Our relationship was strained because of this war. This war had made me hate my best friend, and, he'd picked up on some of what I'd felt at the time. He'd been afraid to see me after they'd carried out their plan, worried I'd be angry. The thought of him being afraid of me made my heart clench uncomfortably. I wanted Yeerks to be afraid of me, not the people I cared about.  
  
I needed to see him.  
  
It had started drizzling more, the gray sky filling with ominous clouds. Rolling out of bed, I went to the hall and called Marco.  
  
"Hello," he answered, sounding groggy, like he'd been asleep.  
  
"It's practically noon, man. Time to wake-up." I teased.  
  
The line was silent for the few seconds it took his sleepy brain to work out who it was.  
  
"Well, to stay as cute as I am I have to get my beauty sleep," he countered.  
  
I laughed. "Oh, sure. You were up all night playing some video game. Admit it."  
  
"You got me there. You think 'Just one more level' and then, the next thing you know, the rooster's crowing."  
  
"Rooster? When did you move to a farm?" This was normal for us, teasing each other. This was good. We hadn't talked like this in a while.  
  
Laughing, he said, "Last week. Thought I'd see what Cassie found so great about it. I have to tell you: darling, I love you, but give me Park Avenue."  
  
I knew he was just quoting the theme song to Green Acres, but hearing him say "I love you" made my insides flip-flop strangely. I didn't answer for a long time. Too long. Through the phone, I heard Marco's breathing speed up.  
  
I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling awkward. "You've been watching too much Nick at Night," I said, lamely.  
  
"Hmm." He sounded distracted. "Oh. Yeah. So, what's up?"  
  
What was up? Why had I called again. I was stuck on "I love you" and having flashbacks of kissing Marco, him begging me to touch him. I wanted to hang up the phone and hide from the memories, but that wouldn't help our friendship. I powered through my discomfort.  
  
"Well," I said, "I've got last week's Star Trek and I haven't had a chance to watch it yet. I was wondering if you wanted to come over and watch it with me."  
  
"I've already seen it," he answered, words tumbling from his mouth like he couldn't get them out fast enough.  
  
"Oh. Okay." I didn't have a back-up suggestion. I tried to think. I guessed we could just watch whatever was on TV.  
  
I had been about to suggest that when Marco said, "But, it was really good, so I don't mind watching it again. I was only half watching it the first time anyway. Some dude on my music board was trying to say Nine Inch Nails were a bunch of hacks and I had to set him straight. But, how about you come over here? My dad's going to be out all day." His words were coming out a mile a minute and it took me a few seconds to decipher them.  
  
I was suddenly very nervous. "Uh. Sure. I'll see you in a few, then," I said, not thinking.  
  
We said our good-byes and hung up. Then, I realized I'd said yes to meeting at his place. Outside, the sky was rapidly darkening with storm clouds. Well, I couldn't back out now since I was the one who had wanted to meet in the first place. I quickly pulled on a coat and shoved the video tape down in the big, deep pocket to protect it from the rain.  
  
On my bike, it'd take about ten minutes to get to Marco's. Within five minutes, I was soaked. The sky decided to open up and dump on me as soon as I turned the corner to the next block.  
  
"Great," I muttered under my breath. I really hated rainy days, and now I was riding my bike in a storm like an idiot because I felt like today was a good day to try and mend fences with Marco.  
  
The rain didn't let up all the way there. I didn't even bother knocking, I just opened the door and walked on in. It's not like he wasn't expecting me.  
  
From the front hall, I could see Marco standing in the kitchen, holding a plastic cup.  
  
"Gah," he cried, dropping it. It landed with an empty thunk. He turned around and relaxed when he saw me. "Did you forget how to knock?"  
  
"Sorry," I said sheepishly, raking my wet hair back. Water slicked off on to the tile floor. "I was just tired of the rain."  
  
"I bet," he said. "You're dripping. Stay there and I'll get some towels." He set the empty cup on the counter, then disappeared down the hall to the bathroom. I was peeling off my wet socks when he came back with a few towels.  
  
"Here," he said, thrusting a towel into my arms and dropping one on the ground to mop up the puddle I'd made.  
  
"Do you have anything I can wear?" I asked, handing him the VHS from my jacket pocket. It had managed to stay pretty dry. "Maybe something of your dad's? Your clothes are a little too small for me." It was meant to be a light jab at his height. We had always joked about how big I was compared to him. But, instead of firing back something about me being a Sasquatch, his face started turning red. Embarrassment? I wasn't sure.  
  
"Uh. Yeah. Yeah, I'll check," he stuttered and practically ran up the stairs.  
  
I toweled off my hair and... oh. As I was pulling off my wet shirt, I realized what had made Marco blush. The last time I'd worn his clothes had been that night, and the shirt I'd been wearing had been too short. He'd run his hands over my stomach and chest and...  
  
I felt my face heat up at the memory. And, at the fact that Marco clearly remembered what happened too. My wet shirt slipped from my hand and plopped on the floor. Of course, that's when Marco came down the stairs, with a dry pair of flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt.  
  
"Whoa. I don't remember hiring a stripper," he joked, his cheeks only slightly pink now. I guess he'd gotten over his embarrassment.  
  
"Ha ha, very funny," I said flatly. Normally I'd joke back, but I was cold and wet and a little flustered.  
  
"So," he said, swallowing audibly. "This whole shirtless and wet thing is a good look for you. A little romance novel cover maybe, but, if I had them, my bosoms would be heaving."  
  
Marco joked like that all the time. I had thought nothing of it just a week before when he'd greeted me with a casual "Hey, handsome." Granted, I had a few things on my mind at the time. More important things than the idea that Marco was actually flirting with me.  
  
I couldn't just stand there awkwardly.  
  
"I'm going to change." I grabbed the clothes from his hands and rushed down the hallway to the bathroom, leaving him standing there with a pile of wet towels and my shirt.  
  
This was stupid. Of course he was flirting with me! He'd kissed me first. I'd just written it off as some desperate need for comfort in an emotional situation, but it was obviously more than that. I had been willfully blind.  
  
Marco was flirting with me, and just a few weeks ago we'd done things people who are just friends probably wouldn't do. Besides shock and that inexplicable feeling of "you should've known, you idiot," I wasn't sure how to approach this revelation. Should I just continue to ignore it? Should we have another talk? I'd reminded Marco, last time, that while he and I were friends, I cared for Cassie. And I did. But that wasn't the whole truth.  
  
I cared for Marco too. He was more than just my best friend, but I'd just never seriously considered having a relationship with him like that. This situation with him had dredged up feelings in me I'd been ignoring.  
  
My head was spinning, but I wasn't going to let my emotions get the best of me right now. I wasn't going to let my confusion over my seemingly similar feelings for Cassie and Marco overwhelm me. I needed more time to think about this, so I was going to get a grip and head back out there to watch Star Trek with my best friend, like I'd planned.  
  
I peeled off the rest of my wet clothes with a sort of intensity I normally reserved for issuing orders. The clothes Marco had borrowed from his dad fit a lot better than Marco's had, though I had to pull the drawstring tight to keep the flannel pants from slipping off my hips.  
  
Marco was still my best friend, I kept telling myself, as I opened the door back out to the hall. Nothing had changed, for now.  
  
Out in the hall, Marco was waiting with an armful of wet towels and my shirt. I dropped the rest of my soaked clothes on top of his pile.  
  
"You want me to shove your stuff in the washer or just dry them?" He asked, already heading to the laundry room.  
  
Noncommittal, I said, "Whatever's easiest." I was trying to play it cool, but I felt jittery and nervous. I followed Marco to the laundry room, just off the kitchen, where I leaned against the doorframe and watched him start a load of laundry, my wet clothes included.  
  
"I never knew you found laundry so interesting," he remarked as he spun the dial to the cold water setting.  
  
"Just making sure you set the washing machine to the right settings for my clothes," I teased. I didn't actually know why I was watching him start the laundry, besides the fact that I was still a little out of it.  
  
Marco laughed. "Your clothes are a faded polo shirt and jeans with a hole in the knee. If they don't make it through one simple wash, good riddance."  
  
"Rachel, is that you in Marco morph?"  
  
He gasped theatrically at my accusation. "If she ever heard you'd compared me to her she'd kill us both."  
  
"Nah. Maybe just maim us a bit." He started ushering me out of the laundry. We moved down the hallway to the living room where Marco grabbed the tape I'd brought.  
  
After a slightly awkward exchange we decided to watch the show in the living room instead of his bedroom room. At this point, we were both pointedly ignoring the fact that there was this tension that neither of us knew how to deal with.  
  
I didn't know how to deal with it, but I still felt  like it was eventually my job to try and diffuse it. My own feelings were so twisted and tangled, however. I thought a little zoning out with Star Trek might unknot me, clear my mind so I could think.  
  
I was wrong.  
  
I couldn't keep my eyes on the screen. They kept darting to Marco, at the other end of the couch. I found myself tracing the line of his jaw, the swell of his lips, remembering what it felt like to kiss him. Oddly, I also found myself drawn to the curve of the bare soles of his feet and the slight curl of his stubby toes. He had stretched out, body turned sideways with legs and feet curled up on the cushion next to me. I wanted to reach out and caress the smooth skin at the top his foot.

I watched as he idly stretched his leg out farther, until his toe touched my thigh. It was an accidental touch, I thought, but he didn't jerk his foot back. Instead, he pressed the sole of his foot flat to the side of my thigh and left it there. I tried to ignore it, tried to focus on Janeway on the screen doing something captain-y. I wasn't even sure what the plot of this episode was, I was so distracted.

I needed to touch him, it was all I could think of. I smoothed my hand down the top of my thigh, just letting the tips of my fingers touch the side of his foot. He didn't move it away. I decided I was tired of pretending. I clasped my hand over the top of his foot and rubbed the smooth skin with my thumb.

I could tell Marco was watching me out of the corner of his eye, his attention as focused on me as mine was on him, both of us pretending to watch Star Trek when all we really wanted to do was touch each other.

Once I admitted that to myself, that was it, I was done for. I ran my hand over his foot, over his ankle, pushed up the leg of his jeans so I could caress the hard muscle of his calf. Marco wasn't watching the TV anymore, he was watching my hand with wide, dark eyes. Like I said, I'm not very good at interpreting emotions. But, I've known Marco long enough to read the hopeful, frightened look on his face.

"Is this what you wanted?" I asked, confident it was, but a little scared myself.

"Y-yes." His voice was uncharacteristically shaky. We were silent for a minute or two, just listening to the TV and the pounding of rain on the windows. I didn't stop rubbing his foot and leg.

"Jake, look," he finally, said, sounding more confident. "I'm not trying to... push you in to anything. I remember what you told me last time. About you and Cassie. It's just..." He trailed off, looking away from me.

When Marco had his sights set on someone, or something, he wasn't easily deterred. Once I'd made up my mind, I hated backing out. I wasn't backing away from what Marco and I had started, just like he hadn't been deterred by my prior reluctance.

I pulled my hand back. He turned his face back to me, afraid I'd changed my mind.

"Can I kiss you?" I asked.

He smiled. "Oh yeah,"  he said, and eagerly scooted across the couch and tried to climb into my lap. Our mouths met awkwardly as he tried to find the right position, seemingly trying to get as close as possible to me.

It was different from before, less desperate, slower and more careful. We were both nervous, cautious with our hands. He kept one hand curled into my hair and another on my shoulder, his thumb tucked into the neck of my borrowed shirt and gently caressing my skin.   

He straddled my thighs and I placed my hands gingerly on his hips.

"This is okay?" I asked. I just needed to be sure.

"Yeah. S'okay." he said, half-sighing and leaning in to kiss me again.

In that moment, I felt like it would be.


End file.
